


Three Little Words

by Lunasong365, sous_le_saule



Series: One step at a time [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Emotionally Repressed, Established Relationship, M/M, and for the angel in love with him, and yet nobody said it was easy, especially for a demon who struggles with his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 19:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10342827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasong365/pseuds/Lunasong365, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sous_le_saule/pseuds/sous_le_saule
Summary: Three little words shouldn't be so hard to say. But once the door is open, there's still a long way to go.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotASpaceAlien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotASpaceAlien/gifts).
  * Translation into 日本語 available: [日本語訳：たった五文字の - Three Little Words by Lunasong365, sous_le_saule](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12993609) by [pinecrunch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinecrunch/pseuds/pinecrunch)
  * A translation of [Abattre le mur](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343589) by [sous_le_saule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sous_le_saule/pseuds/sous_le_saule). 



> For NotASpaceAlien, who did me the honor of liking Open the Door and wanted "a part 2 with Crowley learning to accept his feelings and open up and aziraphale being patient and gentle with him". I cursed your name as many times as I blessed it while writing this ;)
> 
> Many thanks to Luna, a sensible and unique betareader for the French version then a talented translator to English. And a patient listener when I had doubts (which means all through this).
> 
> Translator's note: We held each other's hands through this one.

In the living room lit solely by the flickering lights from the huge television screen, two bursts of laughter sounded in unison. Aziraphale was beginning to understand why Crowley loved this series so much, even though the angel vaguely suspected his own elation was causing the lively exchange between Sophia and Dorothy to be more amusing than it actually was. Several minutes ago Crowley, who rarely initiated physical contact, had taken Aziraphale’s hand, and was now tracing leisurely circles on the back of it with his thumb.

The angel gently tilted his head to rest on his companion’s shoulder, who accepted the gesture with no sign of discomfort. Aziraphale relaxed, enjoying the somewhat heady sensation that felt something like being immersed in a deliciously hot bath. Perceiving the love of humans created a pleasant tingle, but their emotions had never been personally addressed to him like the love currently radiating from Crowley. Aziraphale closed his eyes to better immerse himself in the exhilarating feeling that surrounded him.

He was unexpectedly startled when the shoulder under his temple flinched. Realizing he had thought out loud, he mentally berated himself. He knew those three little words terrified Crowley. A few months earlier, he had made the mistake of believing the demon was ready to hear them. Since that incident, the angel had held them close under careful guard. And when that became too difficult, he whispered them to Crowley after first making sure he was deeply asleep.

Aziraphale held his breath and didn’t move a muscle, as if pretending it hadn’t happened could take back his reckless words. He could almost read Crowley’s mind as the demon continued to stare at the screen with exaggerated attention. A long uncomfortable silence ensued. Finally, Crowley’s hand, which had been frozen, briefly squeezed Aziraphale’s. He squeezed the demon’s in return. _It’s okay, I understand._

But the episode ended without Crowley laughing again, despite Aziraphale’s efforts to react at the right moments, hoping to encourage the same. The demon shut off the TV before the final credits had run.

“I just want to say that…” the angel began apprehensively. Crowley hated this kind of conversation, but he had to be diverted from brooding over what had just happened.

Without a word, the demon retreated into the kitchen and, although he had never previously done anything to wash up other than snap his fingers, began scrubbing the dinner dishes as if it were the most important job he’d done in his life.

Aziraphale sighed and grabbed a towel. “Even without words, I know what you’re feeling,” he said.

“Then why do you want me to say it?” Crowley replied aggressively. He slammed a bowl into the sink with more force than necessary, slopping water and soapsuds over the edge.

“I didn’t…”

“Hah! Don’t forget that, just like you can tell how people feel, I know what they want. And you’re all the time – all the time!” he repeated, raising his voice, “wanting me do things that I can’t.”

Aziraphale was about to vehemently deny this when he realized, with some discomfort, that it wasn’t totally false.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. “I guess it’s because… it would mean that you feel safe… that’s all I care about.”

“What if I can’t?” mumbled Crowley through clenched teeth, his eyes fixed on the suds that were beginning to dissolve into the sink water.

“That’s all right. I won’t stop trying,” Aziraphale simply replied. But he knew it was one of those days when nothing he said or did would get through to the demon. On these days, Crowley was overcome with doubts, and the wall he hid behind seemed as tenacious as it had at the beginning. Aziraphale’s patient work of slowing chipping away at it seemed pointless.

The angel tried to place a comforting hand on the demon’s back, but the latter interrupted him. “It’s getting late. And I’m tired.”

“Okay.” Aziraphale reluctantly lowered his hand and went to fetch his coat. “See you tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. I think I need some space.”

“I understand,” said Aziraphale after processing this announcement. Sequestered on the other side of the kitchen counter, he opened his mouth, hesitated, closed it. But before exiting out the door, he turned round.

“You may try to keep me at a distance, but I won’t give up. Not unless I’m absolutely sure that’s what you want. So please don’t make me sit outside your door again, leaving me alone for too long with no updates. Okay?”

Crowley hesitantly looked up at him and nodded.

 

*

_Give him some space. Stick to one message a day. Short and innocuous. “Just checking in.” “Good night.” Just enough to let him know, “I’m still here.” Give him time._

*

 

There. _Perfect._ Making an example of the ficus had undoubtedly borne fruit. Now each plant’s leaf was full of chlorophyll, each flower worthy of the Garden.

This was what Crowley needed. Not to rehash the interminable seconds that had followed Aziraphale’s declaration; those words that were not only affirming, but required a response. He wanted to say it. It should have been easy. But he’d again run up against a barrier that he thought had been weakened, and the longer he delayed, the more his words would sound false and forced.

An invisible grip viciously twisted his gut. He once more was entangled in the certainty that he was never going to get past that point. His constricted throat had barely allowed him to catch a strangled breath; how could he have possibly spoken such words?

 _Damn it!_ Every time he’d felt he was making progress, an incident like this only proved he was deluding himself and further confirmed that he was incapable of love. But yet, at the Beginning… no, that was Before. Before he’d Sauntered down from Heaven. It had always been less painful to remember it that way. By constant repetition, he’d almost succeeded in believing it himself. But this time… this time it _was_ the truth. He had to somehow spurn Aziraphale’s affection before the angel first rejected him, having finally come to understand that he would get nothing in return from a demon. While anxiously waiting for Aziraphale to eventually recognize that, Crowley was becoming a nervous wreck.

He had to tell the angel at once. All he needed was the courage to do so.

 

 

The bookshop was deserted. Crowley tried his luck at the park. He easily spotted Aziraphale sitting on their customary bench, and he observed from a distance, giving himself a moment to control his trembling hands and ignore the acid that burned in his throat. The demon was struck by Aziraphale’s absent look and dejected air. _Because of him?_

Caught up in his own feelings, he hadn’t even considered that what he was about to say could make Aziraphale unhappy. _No._ The angel would recover quickly. It was going to be the best thing for both of them, and there was no further value in excuses or retreat.

Aziraphale glanced up and saw him. He stood, and even at that distance Crowley could see the complete turnabout in his expression. _Could he, a demon, be the catalyst for such a smile?_

The angel readily came toward him and wordlessly stopped just in front of him, eagerly absorbing the sight of him. Crowley forced himself to look Aziraphale in the eye. He read relief. Joy, also. A joy so intense and so sincere it made his stomach cramp.

 _Could it really be possible that his presence was as essential to Aziraphale as the angel’s was to him?_ The prospect made Crowley dizzy. What could possibly be going on in the angel’s head to lift Crowley to this level of importance?

“I came to tell you that… ”

_Yes. This time, it would truly be his choice._

“… I am sorry.”

“Why?” the angel asked, slightly bowing his head.

“Because… because… ” Crowley flailed his hands uselessly and muttered, “Ah, shit! I’m a consummate tempter, but in situations like this, I can’t even put three words together!”

“Perhaps we could take a walk?” Aziraphale proposed. “Sometimes that helps.”

They trod the paths in silence. The plants were a pitiful sight. The weather had been dry and too hot for the beginning of June. But ominous storm clouds were gathering near the horizon, charging the air with a promise of rain that London had needed for far too long. The rhythm of their steady pace, one step after the other, help soothe the turbulent, vacillating thoughts of the demon.

Crowley spoke in a low voice. “Since I’ve been on Earth, I’ve spent my time making others’ short lives miserable. I don’t know how to make someone happy.”

“Oh, Crowley, ” said Aziraphale poignantly. “You don’t have to do _anything_ to make me happy. I _am_ happy. I don’t ever want you to believe otherwise.”

Crowley chewed the inside of his cheek for a while before bitterly objecting.

“You do your best to hide your frustration, but it’s as easy for a demon to detect as love is for an angel. I’m aware that you constantly hold back the words you want to say and the gestures you want to make, because I’m too fucked up to be able to respond.”

Aziraphale looked distressed at having been so transparent.

“That’s not why. It’s because I know it makes you feel uncomfortable. But… “ his shrug clearly indicated he would not hold back now that Crowley had opened this topic, “… I admit that it’s not always easy for me to contain my feelings. Sometimes I feel like my heart is going to explode.”

Crowley knew that sensation well. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. He had always tried to suppress it. For if he’d ever let himself experience it, how would he react after Aziraphale rejected him and he inevitably returned to his previous existence? To discover that the angel felt the same way caused the demon’s resolution to waver a bit.

“Yes, I would like to be able to express it freely. But does that keep me from being happy with you? No,” Aziraphale firmly concluded.

_Why was Aziraphale making things so difficult?_

“Stop being so… nice! Yes, you’re an angel, patience is a virtue and all that crap, but still you have to admit that you’re wasting your time with me!”

“Do you think I stay with you because of some heavenly obligation?” This time, Aziraphale lost his temper. He stopped short in the middle of the path, and if there had been any passersby, they probably wouldn’t have missed a one of his words. Fortunately, the park was emptying because of the impending storm. “Don’t you see that it’s because… yes, I’m sorry, but I’ll say it since, after all, you obviously need to hear it more often: it’s because I love you. I love you. I am not ‘nice’; I’m hopelessly in love with you. I need you. Is that so difficult to understand?”

His anger dissipated as quickly as it had risen, leaving Crowley stunned.

He was still absorbing what Aziraphale had said when the angel continued, more calmly, “And even if you can’t tell, I know you love me. It isn’t only because I’m an angel that I know it. It’s mainly because you show me every day. The way you look at me when you think I don’t see. Or when you ask me how my day went and you listen to me complain about my customers for half an hour. Or when you come to get me in the Bentley, saying it’s too cold or too dark for you to let me walk – and it’s absolutely adorable because, seriously, what do you think could happen to me? And even when I’m distracted with my nose in a book, I notice that the cup of cocoa I’ve forgotten for hours is always at the right temperature because you warm it up. Ever since we ceased being enemies, you’ve always been the one of us who takes better care of the other. It doesn’t matter if the words are difficult for you. I don’t need to hear them.”

But all these things were _easy_ to do. Crowley did them naturally – how could he _not_ take care of his angel? It had never occurred to him that they represented, to Aziraphale, so many unspoken words of love. Perhaps Crowley was not so hopeless after all.

Stunned by this revelation, he didn’t react.

Aziraphale added, “I know that our relationship confronts you with doubts and fears you would prefer to ignore. I can’t imagine how complicated it is. But I need to know if you think it’s worth it; if _we_ are worth it.”

So here they were again. The walk had brought them back to the same place they’d begun. On one side was a path where he could continue to pretend to saunter, and the other one, more difficult, was the path that actually led somewhere. To the other side of the barrier, to Aziraphale, who was waiting for him, encouragingly holding out his hand.

A last ray of sunshine narrowly escaped through a break in the clouds to shimmer golden light upon Aziraphale’s curls, who awaited his answer with a somewhat uncertain and hopeful air. Crowley, his mouth hanging open, had lost his train of thought.

At last he shook himself. _If you get to make a choice, make the right choice, you fucking idiot! How could you consider missing out on such an opportunity?_

“Yes,” he said with certainty.

Aziraphale’s smile could have illuminated the darkest recesses of Hades. They meaningfully considered each other for a moment, then, by tacit agreement, resumed their walk, their hands sometimes brushing as if by accident. They skirted the bandstand and stopped in the middle of the blue bridge to hang over the railing. Ripples lifted by the increasing breeze traversed the surface only to splash against the muddy shore of the half-evaporated lake, an incessant agitation which prevented the sky, increasingly dark with storm clouds, from reflecting on the surface.

“And are _you_ happy?” Aziraphale abruptly asked, as if processing the scene had prompted the question.

The question was disconcerting. Crowley had never dared to use that word. A demon could be satisfied, even content. But happy? He was astounded that the answer was so obvious.

“Yes.” After a pause, he added further explanation with a sheepish frown. “It’s just that it was difficult to admit when I was scared to death. I… ah… tend to behave like an idiot when I’m afraid.”

“You think that over 6000 years, it had never occurred to me?” Aziraphale bantered.

Crowley smirked before recovering his serious demeanor.

“I have a lot to learn… and to unlearn,” he added after a moment’s hesitation. “So, if you still say … well, you know… I hope you won’t mind if I need a little time before I’m ready to…?”

“Are you trying to tell me that I could… from time to time… ?”

“In the meantime I think I should at least... manage this without panicking.”

Aziraphale, his eyes shining, had initiated a movement he’d immediately suppressed. But not fast enough for it to have escaped Crowley’s notice, who now opened his arms. His companion gave him a surprised look before joyfully jumping into his embrace.

Aziraphale had never again dared to hug Crowley after seeing the demon’s reaction to the first instance, and the latter could tell that the angel was being careful not to hold him too tightly. It did not prevent him from being immediately overwhelmed by a sensation like a straitjacket constricting his movements and breathing.

 _You can do this_ , he repeated to himself like an incantation.

He tried to calm his increasing panic by concentrating on Aziraphale. The soft warmth of his skin against his own in the hollow of his neck where the angel had buried his face. On the joyful abandon with which Aziraphale had welcomed his embrace. On his contented sigh when Crowley’s arms had awkwardly clutched him closer. A sigh that was almost inaudible, yet inescapable to the demon’s ears.

The air filled with the piquant odor of rain absorbing into cracked earth. The first drops that had dampened the dusty soil ( _when had it started raining?_ ) became puddles, and soon the park was nothing more than sheet after sheet of endlessly unfolding water. Despite the squalls that now relentlessly battered them, the angel did not seem to need any shelter other than Crowley's arms.

The discomfort had subsided, not completely, but enough for Crowley to start to understand what was so utterly reassuring about being held close by Aziraphale, whose soft-looking exterior had always served to disguise his strength.

He suddenly realized how much his current body, much like all those he had inhabited throughout the ages, had suffered from lack of human contact. To what extent he, in his true form, had been deprived of what allowed him to touch others and be touched in return: confidence. A loss that, like all fallen angels, he had worked hard to muzzle the pain.

He could now untie these bonds and breathe freely. With his head thrown back, he let the lukewarm rain wash down his face, dripping off his nose and chin.

When he looked back down, Aziraphale was staring at him.

“You’re drenched,” murmured the angel under the deafening sound of the heavy raindrops.

He also had sopping-wet hair and soggy clothing that stuck to his skin. And probably, like Crowley, water had soaked into his shoes. It had been eternity since the demon had felt so good.

Aziraphale brushed aside a lock of hair plastered to Crowley’s forehead, and then placed his hand on the demon’s cheek, with an expression that made his heart flip. _Could this be the day to finally… ? Maybe he could..._

“Angel… I… “

A loud thunderclap, dangerously close by, cut off his words and made them both jump. Aziraphale laughed at Crowley’s expression of dismay, an unrestrained merriment that soon spread to the demon.

 _Okay._ He’d have to wrestle with those words again. He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, the one still against his face, and kissed his palm. A large section of the wall had collapsed that day, and Crowley no longer doubted that, together, they would one by one dismantle the bricks that still remained.


End file.
